


One-for-One

by xxELF21xx



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: 3+1 Things, Accidents, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Anxiety, Because 5 is too many, Big Brother Dick Grayson, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Implied Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson - Freeform, Jason is a Dork, Jason whump, Jason-Centric, Jealous Jon, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Read Author's Notes, References to Depression, The Author Regrets Everything, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, plot holes everywhere, slightly nsfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-01-09 19:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: There seems to be a pattern, a trait, in the family. For every Wayne, there is a Kent. And with the Kents, life never gets boring, Damian realises.Or, Damian and Jon are childhood best friends; and maybe more.[Now including several batfamily shorts!]





	1. Through The Years, We Don't Change (Much)

**Author's Note:**

> I read a fic about how every Bat had a Supes, so here's one more; but without powers. 
> 
> WARNING: NSFW. There's graphic depictions of masturbation. If you're uncomfortable with it, please avoid reading. The scenes take up a lot of the story. I don't know if I should tag it as underage, since it's masturbation? Please enlighten me on it. 
> 
> Un-beta'd, if there are mistakes, please let me know!

Dick Grayson didn't know what to expect when he opened up the doors of the Manor years ago and finds Talia Al Ghul with a child. Bruce is right behind him, and a silent conversation plays out before Dick — one he's not included in. And this feels weird, this. . . scene feels surreal, because the baby bundled up in Bruce's arms has the world's brightest emeralds for eyes, wide and almond shaped, a little button nose, and tufts of soft black hair that is awashed in the scent of oils. 

Dick Grayson is eighteen when he gains a new brother. He loves Jason and Tim, and Cass and Steph were honestly the best, but. . . this new sibling gives Dick a strange feeling in the pits of his stomach. 

'Not once did you bother to tell me about him,' Bruce speaks softly, the warm weather betraying the turmoil in his blue-grey eyes. Talia's own eyes are green, but it's much deeper, more  _jagged,_ 'I was intending to raise him as an Al Ghul, but Father has malicious plans for my son. I will do anything to ensure my son's safety, even if it means leaving him with you for perhaps forever.' Her voice is unwavering, strong and taut. There is a tick in her jaw, stubborn and daring. A silence falls over the foyer as a robin swoops into the Manor and starts chirping.

Dick feels his breath catch, his mouth is slack,  _I have a new brother._ It runs through his head over and over again, like an old habit. And he itches to welcome the newborn into his arms like he did with his other siblings — a full-blown run into tiny, malnourished Jason's body, encasing them in warmth and soothing words; a soft, light cuddle with the attention-starved Tim, a crackle of joy in the smaller boy's dark blue eyes, and hushed giggles; a pat on brave Cass' head, reassuring smiles sent her way as he guided her home; a cuddle session with a crying and bristling Steph, watching her father get thrown into jail and keeping her as physically close as possible, to protect her from the evil. Dick's arms stretch out, slowly, and he takes a glance at Talia, at Bruce, his throat dries up. 

Maybe later. 

Talia says her farewells soon, 'in ten years I shall return to check on him,' and she disappears into the colours of the front garden. Dick takes the chance to hold out his arms like an expectant child, head held high and position firm. He took it as his God given right to welcome his newest brother like he did to the rest. Bruce sighs, casting a look at his youngest, before passing the green bundle over. Dick's never held a baby before, and his brother looks even  _tinier_ up close, 'you're going to fit right in,' and presses a kiss in the baby's hair, grinning when he years a curious gurgle. 

'His name is Damian. Damian Wayne.'

Dick's smile grows. 'You're gonna fit right in, Lil' D.'

 

* * *

 

 

At the age of twelve, going into thirteen, Jason never expected to see another baby in his life. Not even after marriage. 

'Please don't tell me B knocked some woman up and that's the new blood.' From the couch, Tim shoots up like a rocket and flies over to Jason, nearly crashing into his back. Jason ignores the pale boy. 'Uh,' Dick says, intelligently. 'Oh my God,' Tim gasps, and Jason wants him to dramatically faint; but such dramatics were for much serious cases. 

'He's Damian. And Talia's his mum.' 

Jason and Tim share one look, before fainting in unision.

 

* * *

 

 

Cass and Steph took in the news better. In fact, they hardly even cared. All they cared about was throwing Damian a baby shower once his birthday rolls around, and were now roping in Barbara to help pick out decorations.

In his arms, Damian's chubby hands slap Dick's face repeatedly. Dick sighs. 

Tim and Jason, on the far side of the room, have begun making plans on how to be the second favourite brother, since "Dick is literally the best brother, but also the worst". 

Dick wants to move back to his mediocre apartment in Bludhaven. 

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce stared at his phone, the dial pad's worn numbers tempting him to make the call. He swivels around in his chair, mindlessly. He had another son. A  _blood_ son. 

With the fastest speed imaginable, Bruce picks up the receiver and dials the number he's known by heart.

 

* * *

 

 

Damian, aged three, stares as another bubbly blonde —  _not_ Brown, his mind supplies — walks into the den. Outsiders were  _not_ welcome. Todd is close by, so if Damian were to start fussing he would definitely notice the new lady and kick her out. Damian is ready to start crying when Grayson launches into the room and crushes the lady in a bone-cracking hug. 

All of Damian's plans were ruined effectively. Gryason and the lady start excitedly talking, and Damian tries his best to glare through sleepy eyes. He almost suceeds before he is picked up by Todd, and his arms wrap around Todd's neck as he leaves the room. 'I know, Demon Spawn, Dick's  _such_ a  _dick._ He was supposed to be playing chess with me, then he went and invited Kara over. I'm cool with Kara, but Dick's an  _asshole.'_ Jason rambles as he makes his way from the den, 'let's go to my room for a nap, make Dickhead worry where you've crawled off to.' 

Damian makes a sound of appeasement before his eyes shut completely. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kara slowly becomes part of Damian's life. She's one of Grayson's best friends, and is the younger cousin of Father's best friend, Clark Kent. Although he's never met Kent before, Damian already knows that he acts like Kara — all huge smiles and positive attitude. Damian begrudingly accepts her as his god-aunt of sorts, after two years of begging from a teary-eyed Grayson. 

It appears that Todd had his very own Kent as well. Granted, Kara wasn't a Kent, but still. The hulking figure known as Todd's close friend, that wasn't Harper, stood so tall he made Todd look like a dwarf. Bizzaro, as Damian had been told, was born with some sort of genetic mutation that made him taller and broader than most people. He was also one of Kent's cousins. However, Damian much preferred Bizarro over Kara; he was much more gentle, softer with his words and actions, taking time to properly befriend Damian. He did not treat Damian like a child either, which made the young boy very pleased. 'Listen, kid,' Todd had once pulled Damian aside to give him a mini lecture, 'Biz isn't like most people. He's had a ton of problems growing up — being bullied and pushed over, even abused, so don't take advantage of him; you hear? He may come off as stupid, but he's definitely smarter than us all.' Damian nodded gravely, noticing Todd's clenched fist and fight-filled eyes. 

And Drake, well, Drake was  _special._ His Kent wasn't as friendly and cheerful as the rest, his Kent was more reserved; more prone to anger outbursts. Damian didn't like him very much. He was tall, like a Kent should be, broad and muscular, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. His attitude was a mix of kindness and bitterness, and Damian couldn't figure out if Drake's Kent wanted to befriend Damian or kill him. Perhaps an intervention was necessary, Damian thought, Conner Kent should be removed from Drake's life; to protect the boy. However, it does seem that Drake took to Kent like a moth to a flame, there was a spark of excitement and enthusiasm whenever Kent was around. Kent seemed to be very gentle with Drake as well. Damian made a small "tt" sound, causing the two year old beside him to look up, maybe Kent could stay with Drake. . . until Damian finds him some better friends.

The girls did not seem to have their own Kent, fortunately, but Kara and Kent have been popular with them. It seems like Brown and Kara knew each other from school? Damian wasn't sure, but they were very close to each other. Kent and Cass get along smoothly as well, Cass was always there to listen if Drake was busy; which Damian guesses is pretty much why Kent stuck around at all. Damian frowns, staring at Titus' head in his lap, the Kent family is so large, the girls are bound to get themselves a Kent each. 

Then, there's  _his_ Kent. A disgusting two year old with jet black hair, and wide blue-indigo eyes, his nose was rounded and his face was chubby, his skin was fair. Brown said he looked kinda like Snow White, with the fairest skin, the darkest ink for hair, and rich blue eyes. Damian worries for the new Kent,  _maybe I should throw all the apples away._ Said Kent was slowly crawling towards him, round eyes wide in amazement. Damian felt a weird feeling pressed against his gut, and snuggled Titus' head even further, the hound's snout pressed against his stomach. Titus made a soft whine, which caused Kent to jump; but still, he surged on. Damian tried glaring at him, but Kent only smiled cheerfully as he sat beside Damian, their bodies flushed against each other. 'Dog,' he said smartly, a grin on his face. 'Titus,' Damian corrected, allowing Kent to pet the Dane's head. Kent giggled, rubbing his skinny hands along Titus' face, 'like dogs.' Damian nodded, he's only known Kent for two months, but perhaps he could trust the younger boy with Titus. And Alfred the cat. 

Kent stops petting Titus and turns around to give Damian a hug, shocking him. 'What— ' Damian is cut off with a light peck on the lips, with Kent mumbling a "thank you". Todd, who'd been in the room for babysitting duty, made the unmanliest shriek, his phone clutched tightly in his left hand. 'Dad! Dad! You gotta see this!' The giggling nineteen year old idiot coughed out loudly, and Pennyworth and Father rushed into the room with worry etched on their faces. 'What's wrong?' Father asked, picking the both of them off the ground and inspecting them for injuries. 

'Jon just kissed Damian. On the lips. Our Damian has stronger game than you, Dad.'

 

* * *

 

 

Jonathan, at five, sees Damian as his whole world. Kon finds it hilarious, always finding a way to tease him for it, and Bizzaro thinks it's cute. Aunt Kara finds it amusing that Jon's taken to Damian like an imprinted duckling; but she's nicer than Kon and doesn't make fun of him for it. 

'It's so  _cute!_ Right, Biz?' The giant nods, a huge grin on his face, 'small nephew am very cute. Have feelings for small angry child.' Jon gasps, 'you called Damian an angry child! Why?' Kara stifles her laughter, 'Clark, my God, your son missed the point  _completely.'_ Kon snorts, earning a smack on the head from mum, 'when it's about Damian,  _he's_ the point. Kara, you should know this.' Jon whines, kicking his feet under the dining table, 'mum! Make Kon stop teasing me!' Biz huffs a laugh and spoons more rice into Jon's mouth, cutting off his whining. 

Kon gives Biz a high five from across the table while the others laugh. Traci and Natasha, who've came to join for dinner, smile apologetically at Jon. 

Jon decides that Traci and Natasha are his favourite family members now. He sticks his tongue out at Kon and Biz, elicting a scolding from Dad, and a pinch to the cheek by Kara. 

'Gosh, if only you knew what you did when you were two, Jon.' Mum sighs, puzzling Jon.

 

* * *

 

 

'Are you sure I'm allowed to go?' Kent asks, for the fifteenth time. With gritted teeth, Damian grinds out a "yes, Jonathan". Kent's eyes are still as wide as ever, and the indigo flecks in his eyes shine ever so brightly. 'Thanks, Damian!' 

Damian quells that feeling ballooning in his chest. His happiness can wait until  _after_ Jonathan is comfortable attending the Gala. 'Come, we need to prepare.' 

Damian doesn't know that age thirteen, he still is the sun to Jonathan's Earth. 

 

* * *

 

 

The jealousy monster rears his ugly head at the girl talking to Damian. Today was supposed to be their day! Jon sulks, leaning against the trunk of a tree while he continues looking at Damian talk to the girl. 'Stupid Damian. Stupid, stupid, stupid.' He huffs, glaring at the grass. 'What have I done now, Jonathan?' A voice whispers close to his ears, sending Jon shrieking and jumping a mile away, 'what the  _heck,_ Damian!' He protests, ignoring the red crawling up his neck. 

Damian, at seventeen, is a beauty. Lean, tall (though still shorter than Jon), with stunning emerald eyes and a sharp nose, his hair in a slight quiff and his lips in an everlasting quirk, Damian could beat any beauty pageant and come out as the undefeated champion. 

'You called me stupid, quite vehemently, I believe,  _Jonathan.'_ Damian teases, falling into step with the younger boy. 

'I hate you.'

'Happy to hear it.'

-

That night, Jon lies stock still in bed. His eyelids flutter as his brain replays how Damian said his name — soft, sarcastic, and a little sultry. He groans, flopping to face his window.  _Stupid Damian._ The idiot had caused his horny mind to conjure up different scenarios in his head: Damian helping Jon to jerk off, giving Damian a blowjob, Damian giving  _him_ a blowjob. His breath caught in his throat as his traitorous body responded to those thoughts,  _'no,'_ he whined uselessly as his erection grew. 

Oh God, what if Damian was  _fucking_ Jon? His eyes snapped open, and his hands moved southwards, and he bit his pillow as he grasped his erection. A flash of hot white surged through his veins as he did his best to muffle the sounds of pleasure coming from his mouth. His eyes stare dazedly at the window as he sees Damian, smirking in all his glory, taking Jon's cock into his hands. 

 _'My, oh my.'_ Damian purrs,  _'looks like someone's a little horny.'_ Jon gasps as his hands slide over his balls, and a whine builds in his throat as he starts tracing the shape of his dick. Damian's sharp green eyes turn dark, as he draws closer,  _'Jonathan, you have to remain silent. We don't want anyone finding out about this, do we?'_ Jon shakes his head rapidly, breath panicky. Damian gives a playful grin, and his hands encase Jon's erection completely. 

Jon releases a choked moan, eyes prickling as Damian tuts, the other boy softly reprimanding him for making noise. His hands move back and forth, creating a delicious friction that pulls his body taut. He spends time teasing the head, spreading precum over the tip and down the sides, making it easier to jerk off. Jon's drooling, but his hands don't stop there. Damian's fondling with his balls, and Jon's head presents him with Damian sucking on them, the loud slurps and moans rebounding off his head. He reacts, raising his hips as if it's going to help. His hands get collectively sticker, making it harder to pleasure himself. 

Before he knows it, he's thrusting into his hands as quick and shallow as possible, breath coming in gasps. He's  _so_ close, and he feels the coiling of his gut, but he can't come. He lets out an annoyed groan. Precum is sliding off the head of his cock, and it collects at the base, dripping off his balls and onto the rim of his asshole. He jerks, which results in more cum landing on the rim. Jon knows, theoretically, that he could spread the cum around there and ease his fingers in. He's heard his classmates discuss this before. He's so desperate for release he'll do anything, even if it means fingerfucking himself. 

 _'You'd do that? What a naughty boy,'_ Damian cackles. Jon gulps, the tips of his fingers playing with the cum on his asshole. Slowly, determinedly, he spreads it to cover his rim thickly, and coats his fingers with more precum, before pushing against his asshole. Damian's eyes grow even darker, and Jon doesn't realise he's changed position until now. His ass is in the air, and he's on his knees. He bites the pillow harder, legs quaking as the unfamiliar intrusion presses forward. Jon has half a mind to take his finger out when Damian taunts him,  _'go deeper, Jonathan. You can do it, can't you?'_ He wants to snap at Damian, tell the half-Arabian boy to shut up, but he's lost his voice, and his finger sinks deeper. It's uncomfortable, but the feeling of shame snaking its way up Jon's body makes his dick jump. There's got to be a better way to do this, he thinks. He shifts his finger, and keens in shock; his nail scrapes something inside of him and he falls forward, free hand clutching his sheets tightly. He does it again, muffling his cries into his drool soaked pillow, eyes unfocused. Damian chuckles, and Jon feels a ghostly warmth tickle his sides,  _'that's it; you **can** do it.' _His knees feel like jelly and he's about to break, but Jon's  _so close._

 _'Jonathan,'_ Damian commands, and Jon releases one last desperate moan into his pillow before he falls apart, cum staining the green sheets beneath him. 

He collapses, spent, and pulls the covers over his body before he slips his eyes shut; a final phantom whisper of  _'good boy'_ is heard, and Jon shudders as he falls asleep.

-

Damian cannot sleep. Or rather, Damian doesn't want to sleep. He doesn't know  _why,_ but seeing Jonathan so bothered earlier in the day was bothering  _him_ as well. 'Tt, the idiot,' he grumbles. Was it something he did that ticked off the younger boy? Damian blinks at his ceiling, a rich cream colour with a chandelier in the middle, reflecting moonlight and making it look ethereal, 'maybe I should call him.' But would Jonathan still be awake?

Damian turns to his phone, tucked into the bedside drawer, and fishes it out by the charging cable.  _ **03:28**_ flashed mutedly against the dim screen. With how much homework the boy has, maybe Jonathan  _might_ be awake. A warning, in Jonathan's voice, bongs loudly in his head:  _'I don't care if you're a Wayne or whatever, but don't call me after 10pm on a weekday night unless you want me to ignore you for the next week. I want to sleep, Damian._ Jonathan wouldn't mind, besides, it was fall break. 

Damian speed dials Jonathan, with his earbuds plugged in, and waits patiently for the bleary yet angry  _'what the heck, Damian!'_ Damian would easily respond with a dignified snort — courtesy of Drake's teaching — and Jonathan may hang up completely. He's done it before. 

The call is connected, but before Damian could say a word, a loud rustling of sheets and an annoyed huff is heard. Damian braces himself for the outburst of exaggeration.  _'Damian!'_ A long, drawn out whine is heard, exploding into his ears. His eyes go wide,  _what in the Heavens is Jonathan doing? Is he alright?_ Damian is assaulted with a drowned out moan, and a skin-slapping-skin sound causes the realisation that Jonathan Samuel Kent is jerking off. 

Damian flushes, about to end the call, when Jonathan moans louder; and since Damian's in-call volume is maxed out, Damian ends up hearing the moan in complete clarity. He curses silently in his head, dick jumping up at the sound of breathy whines and rutting.  _I should hang up,_ Jonathan's breathing picks up, 'Damian, Damian, Damian,  _please,'_ the blue-eyed boy honest-to-God  _begs;_ all keens and choked syllables. Damian finds himself reacting to it, erection now straining his pants. His fingers swipe across his screen, even though he knew it was morally wrong, and he begins to record the conversation. 

Jonathan cries out again, the sound blasted into Damian's ears, resulting in a groan. Hurriedly, he mutes his microphone and slides his hand down his pants, massaging his shaft. Shame simmers slightly in his chest, but the  _unfair_ way in which Jonathan was butchering his name urges him forward.  _'Hn, please. Ne— Uh, Damian, oh God— '_ Jonathan's voice is muffled again and Damian growls in frustration, 'let me hear you, Jonathan.' It wasn't as if Jonathan could hear him, but Damian was absolutely turned on right now; and if Jonathan isn't going to finish what he started, then Damian would unmute the microphone and force Jonathan to come undone using his voice only. The malicious thought spurs him on, brief flashes of Jonathan having phone sex with him and listening to Damian's commands driving him insane. 

There's more rustling, and a tentative wet sound; like Jonathan was playing with his cum — the scene making Damian's eyes roll to the back of his head — before a short mummur of  _'gonna fingerfuck myself'_ has Damian breathing harshly. Jonathan cursing was hot enough, but  _fingerfucking?_ Damian moans in approval; the image of Jonathan's legs spread wide open with his fingers thrusting in and out of himself, pupils blown wide and mouth slack and lips plump almost makes Damian cum right then and there. 'Come on, Jonathan. I'm almost there.' 

A startled cry from Jonathan goes straight to his dick, and Damian groans around the earphone cables in his mouth. He's getting progressively louder, nobody needs to know about him jerking to off to his best friend. Jonathan moans wetly, sounding like he has something in his mouth, and a picture of the boy sucking Damian's cock while fingerfucking himself worms its way into his mind.  _Fuck, that'll be quite amazing._ The young Kent gets more and more vocal, with a slew of garbled words flaming Damian's fantasies wilder before a final, long, high-pitched moan signals Jonathan cumming. Damian swears loudly, biting into his lips to prevent himself from any further outbursts. 

The other line goes quiet after that, causing Damian to assume that Jonathan had drifted off to sleep. He ends the call, stops the recording, and plays it on loop. He's on the brink of release, and allows his imagination to reign free as he listens to Jonathan making sex noises. 

Damian lasts for a tiny fraction of a minute before cumming to Jonathan being thoroughly fucked by him, ropes of thick cum staining his pajamas. 

 

* * *

 

 

Damian is twenty one, and still has the recording of Jonathan jerking off in his phone. It's listed as  **"Alfred the Cat purring"** and has been played four hundred and ninety three times in the span of three years. Does he feel guilty? Yes. Does it stop him?  _No._ He hasn't had any sort of clean thought about Jonathan ever since that night, and Jonathan was as unknowing as ever. 

And it's hell for Damian. 

Everytime Jonathan does something remotely dirty — eating a popsicle, licking his lips, even  _blushing,_ to name a few, Damian would get flustered on the inside and criminal thoughts would flood his mind. 

This time was no exception. And it didn't help that Jonathan was now legal. 

Innocent Jonathan was just eating a cherry lollipop, rolling it in and out of his mouth, while waiting for their food to arrive; and taking the time to observe their private dining room in Metropolis' most famous restaurants: high ceilings with gorgeous lilac tapestries spanning the top of the room, fastened together by a grand chandelier, dripping candlelight softly against the rich red walls and reflected magically against the floor-to-ceiling window of the room; which overlooked the city's skyline. Jonathan's wide eyes took everything in excitedly, like a child, darting everywhere and so amazed at everything. Damian closed his eyes briefly,  _mind out of the gutter. Mind out of the gutter, Damian Wayne._

'Hey, Damian,' Damian hummed, 'do you wanna go out with me?' He could sense Jonathan's gaze on him, strong and unwavering. 'Sure,' he answers in a heartbeat. There's silence, and a soft, 'I don't think you get it.' The dining room door opens, and muffled footsteps of several waiters signal that dinner was served, Damian opens his eyes, just as the door closes, to meet Jonathan's fierce blue ones. 'Oh?' Damian questions, his hands pick up a serving spoon, and he fills Jonathan's plate with food, 'care to explain?' 

'Be my boyfriend.' 

Damian smirks, glittering green eyes dancing in the flames, 'I thought we were in a relationship ever since you were two.' 


	2. Tipping Icebergs, Perhaps?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There isn't a day that goes by when Damian doesn't long for his brother's hugs. Jason, however, thinks differently.
> 
> After all, Jason deserves nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS LATE SORRY. I wanted some Jason whump; because I love to torture myself.  
> No slash. Mentions of rape/child prostitution. Descriptions of anxiety and depression, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. PTSD is present, even if it does seem small.

When he was 15, Jason Todd dropped off the face of the world. He never told anyone where he went, or how he got home; but when he returned a year later, Jason changed. Gone was the charming, sweet, yet brash boy; Jason came home in a flurry of unadulterated  _rage._ Bruce never understood how Jason turned out like that, mourning the loss of his son from  _before._ Dick, who'd been all but friendly and as loving as Jason thought he would've been, tried to adapt; but he didn't see the whole picture. Tim, still new to the family at that time, had received the brunt of Jason's newfound hate. 

Jason had apologised after his temper had been reigned; and though Tim had forgiven him, they were still awkward around each other. In the short year that Jason's known the other boy, he's found out that they were more similar than Dick said they were. Alfred found it amusing to watch them sprout out the same responses in literally  _every_ situation. 

Then, there was Damian. Jason  _swore_ he's met the half-Arabian boy before. But he can never place a finger as to  _where._

It annoyed him to no end. 

Maybe, his mind reasoned, you've caught glimpses of him when you were with Talia. But it  _couldn't_ be true. Jason would've heard the Al Ghul servants talking about a baby, and he would've been able to see the baby bump if Damian wasn't born yet. Damian was a year and a half years old when he joined the Waynes.  _Why can't I remember?_ Jason looked over to the four year old Damian, 'have we met before, tater tot?' Damian grumpily turned away from him, having been abruptly woken up when Jason crashed into his room. 'Yeah,' Jason sighed, playing with the rich brown carpet beneath him. 

Talia would've told Jason if she'd had a child,  _right?_ Fuck, did Jason mean anything  _more_ than  _"Bruce's second son"_ to Talia? 'Probably not,' he scoffed. And here he was, thinking that spending a year under her wing (and in her home) after running away meant that he was somewhat  _Talia's_ son. He's such an idiot. Talia may have been more patient than Bruce, and may have taught him things that Bruce would never dare to even  _think_ about, and she may have been Jason's almost-mother, but she was  _Talia Al Ghul._

He sat up, walking over to Damian's ginormous bed (seriously Bruce, what the  _fuck?)_ to tuck him back in. 'Sorry for waking you up, twerp. Sleep tight.' 

\--

He avoided Damian after that.

But he  _can't._ Damian's wide green eyes are always pinned on him, somehow, guilt-tripping him into coddling the boy more than socially acceptable.

\--

He leaves Gotham, for a while, with Artemis and Bizarro. He doesn't know what he's going to do, or where they're gonna go, but he figured he needed to leave the polluted city and get some fresh air. 

'I would have assumed you'd ask Kory and Roy to go with you,' Artemis says, calmly sharpening a hunting knife. Jason shuffles in his sleeping bag, 'go to sleep, Arty. It's late.' Kory and Roy were sore subjects for him. Ever since he's come back, they. . . haven't talked much. Kory was busy, between her modelling job and playing as Dick's wingwoman for wooing Wally, Jason could hardly get her to sit still before she had to run again. But they text, and call each other when available.  _'I'll always be here for you, Jason,'_ he recalls, her fiery hair whipping wildly around them as they sat on the Manor's roof,  _'no matter where I am.'_ Roy. . . Roy's reaction was different. He was mostly angry at Jason, green eyes rimmed with red from tears and strain, freckled face pink and scrunched up in pain.  _'I was driving myself crazy looking for you! Where were you?! Did you know Dick nearly went mad from grief and worry when you were pronounced missing and possibly dead? Fuck you, Todd. I thought we meant something to you. I thought **I**_ _meant something to you!'_

Roy's reaction drove Jason into avoiding him  _entirely._ It was clear Roy wanted nothing to do with him anymore. It didn't matter that they were best friends before. They hardly look at each other, and say nothing when around the other.

'They're too busy to entertain me.' 

He could hear Artemis' actions stop. 'Jas- ' He pulled the covers over his head, effectively blocking her out. From the corner of the giant tent, Bizarro attempts to talk to him. Jason closed his eyes, flashing images of blood and echoes of laughing plaguing his mind.

\--

He return to Gotham four months later, his head clearer and his eyes brighter. 

Damian's grown, is his first thought when he sees the youngest boy. 

'Todd, you went missing  _again.'_ The brat bites out, green eyes venomous. 'Yeah? I left a note, didn't I?' Damian falters in his angry stomping, worry floods the small body, 'are you alright?' Jason smirks, looking at his little brother in the face, 'better than I'll ever be.' 

He pretends to not see the boy run after him, pretends not to hear his name being shouted at by the one person he's actually  _missed_ on his little trip, pretends not to see short arms reaching out for him. 

Damian won't need him, like everyone else.

\--

'I've had  _enough_ of your shit, Jason!' Tim bursts into his room, a bunch of papers in hand. Jason paid him no mind, and continued reading his book. Once Tim started blabbering, he'd stick his earbuds in until Tim'd left. 

'No, no, don't fucking  _ignore_ me, you  _ass.'_ Well, this was new. Jason's book was ripped from his hands and crashed into the wall opposite his bed. 'What the  _fuck,_ Timmy?!' He snaps, standing up to retrieve his book, but Tim forces him down again. (A surge of panic floods his senses, and images of grimy men and women looming over his frail body appear in his head. He forces it down.)  _'Listen.'_ Tim hisses, blue eyes flashing dangerously in the bright afternoon light. This is the angriest Jason's ever seen Tim. It scares him, slightly. 

Jason eyes his younger brother warily, lifting his arms up to surrender. Tim sighs, and all the anger from before drips off, leaving a tired teen in its place. 'Damian- he- ' Another sigh, then, 'he's been crying.' 

O-kay? 

The confusion must be showing on his face, because Tim rolls his eyes and his face morphs into the custom "Jason, you're being stupid" look. 'Just- do you know how  _terrified_ I was when Damian comes knocking outside my study, bawling his eyes out? I think I shat my pants, Jase.' Tim runs a hand in his hair, troubled, 'he was babbling something about you ignoring him or something.'  _Oh,_ Jason thinks. 'Look, Jay, I know you've been feeling like- you're still not okay with us, Bruce,  _whatever,_ but  _Damian's_ never done anything to you. God, you  _love_ him, don't you? He looks at you like you hung the _stars_ in the sky, Jason!'

'He'll be okay without me.' Tim's face flushes red at Jason's response. 'Are you  _listening_ to yourself right now? What the fuck, Todd? Damian's clearly upset that you're avoiding him, and  _that_ was your response?!  **What the fuck is wrong with you?!'** There it was, the one question everyone's been asking since he came back.  _I don't know!_ He wants to scream,  _leave me alone!_ Jason blinks back tears, 'just leave me alone, Tim.' Tim's face falls, his eyes dull, 'Jason. . . what- '

'Leave.'

Jason ends up running to Kate's after Tim leaves his room.

\--

Kate's red hair clashes with her pale skin horribly, Jason points out. 'Kid, isn't it way past your bedtime?' Kate leaves no room for jokes, an eyebrow raised in question. 'What's wrong?' She asks, pulling him into her penthouse. Jason shrugs, eyes downcast. Kate frowns, but says nothing. 'C'mon, go sit down for a bit.' She drags Jason over to the sofas, a warm orange splash in the myriad of cool colours of her living room. Jason curls into the seats, staring at the black tv screen. 

She returns a few minutes later, with a tray of tea in hand. She pours him a cup, the aroma of jasmines comforting him a little. 'It's the only tea I've got left, sorry. You still like drinking tea, right?' Jason nods mutely, pulling the scalding cup close to his face. Aunt Kate wasn't familiar with him, and he's only seen her during Wayne events. Why'd he come here, of all places? Kate shifts until she's comfortable in her seat, her long legs barely brushing against Jason's socked feet on the long sofa. 

'What's up?' Kate breaks the silence a while later, when the tea's cooled a little. 'I don't know,' he confesses, 'I just- sometimes I don't know what I'm doing anymore.' He feels her piercing gaze on him, but he continues staring at the blank tv screen. 'Jason,' she says softly,  _'what's happened to you?'_ His vision blurs, and all of a sudden he's crying in his aunt's arms. Lavenders blanket him soothingly, and he hears Kate whispering in his ear, patting his hair in a slow rhythm. 

He spills everything to her -- how inadequate he feels compared to Dick, how he feels like Bruce doesn't  _see_ him, how Damian feels  _frustratingly_ familiar, and how he wants to take everything he's ever done and said to Tim  _back._ He tells her why he ran away, because he was so afraid that Bruce might kick him out again once he's realised that Jason just  _wasn't worth it,_ and then how he got kidnapped by a madman that wanted to use him against Bruce; how Talia came to his rescue by some miracle. Living with the Al Ghuls, being tutored by Talia in _everything,_ hearing how Bruce adopted their neighbour's kid not a month after Jason's disappearance. How absolutely  _shitty_ he felt when Roy confronted him, how he felt that Kory should stop wasting her time on him,  _I don't deserve anything._

Kate stays silent throughout, rubbing comforting circles in his back and making him drink his tea when he gets too jittery. He tells her his childhood, the one thing he didn't allow anyone to know about, through hiccups and shudders. Kate's grip on him tightens immensely, but he thinks nothing of it. She dries his tears through it all. 

'Jason, darling,' she sighs, a deep, regretful sound,  _'none_ of this is your fault; you understand? I don't know how Bruce's been bringing you lot up, but I know that he will  _always_ see worth in you. You're not worthless, and you're worth  _everything._ I know that he's been hot and cold toward you, but he does love you. Look at me, Jason, he loves you; you hear me? He calls me at the most ungodly hours just to talk about the things he could've done with you, and how much he regrets not spending enough time with you, and how much he  _wished_ that you'd just  _talk_ to him.' Jason's breathing is slow, and he unfurls from from the ball he's tucked himself into. 'You're  _you,_ nobody can compare to you, don't think too much about it. Your mistakes don't define you; as long as you've realised where you've gone wrong, that means that you're on the right track. It wasn't your fault that you got kidnapped. It was  _our_ fault for not realising it soon enough. I'm sorry, Jason. We should've tried  _harder._ We never saw you the way you wanted us to, and I'm sorry. Talia was everything to you, once. And I'm sorry she doesn't love you more.' 

Kate lifts his head up, and his aquamarine eyes meet her own light green ones, 'Jason, you deserve  _everything.'_ Her expression softens into a familiar look of fondness, and Jason feels like he's thirteen all over again; meeting his aunt for the first time. 'It's late, kid, get some sleep.' 

\--

Kate sends a quick message,  _meet me at the Courthouse in two hours._ She doesn't wait for a reply, shutting her phone off. She clears the living room, washing up the tea set, and checks on her nephew once more before she leaves. 

'Bruce, what have you done to him?' She whispers defeatedly, once she's in her car. Jason's barely  _twenty,_ God- the things he's been through. Bile rises up her throat as she drives down the beaten roads, the disgusting images of grubby hands  _touching_ her nephew spurs her to drive past the speed limit. Speeding tickets won't hold her back. 

\--

Jason wakes up to his bedroom. He panics, tripping out of his bed. He was  _sure_ he fell asleep in Kate's guestroom.  _How did I get back here?_ He's halfway out the window, he figures he could hide in his own apartment that nobody knew about, when Dick comes dashing into the room, wild eyes pinned on Jason. 

'Jaybird, get down from there!' He squawks, pulling Jason from the window and back to his bed. 'Bruce is kinda busy having  _words_ with Aunt Kate- Jason?' Jason's throat closes, and the panic spreads because  _Kate's telling Bruce what I told her._ 'Jason, hey, it's gonna be okay.' Jason laughs hysterically, 'nothing's gonna be okay! She's going to tell- '  _Bruce that I sold myself to help my mum, that I wanted to kill myself, that I wanted to be buried six feet under and have you all forget me._ Jason doesn't get to finish his words, because Dick crushes him into a hug; and all Jason wants to sleep away the pain like he's always done. 'Damian misses you, he won't stop crying for you.' Dick says tentatively. 

 _Oh God, Damian._ Jason feels like the worst older brother in the world now. 

'I want to see him, please.' Dick beams at him, and gently tugs Jason to Damian's room. 'He's, uh, pretty volatile right now. He's been screaming that someone bring you home. Jon's there with him, but he won't stop crying.' Jason kicks the floor, 'are you guilting me now, dickhead?' Dick smiles mischievously, knocking on Damian's door. 

'Dami, Jason's home.' Barely two seconds later, the door flings open; and a mass of green attacks Jason head on, causing him to fold from shock. Dark blue eyes peer from behind the door, Jon blinks at him curiously, Dick picks him up and hightails out of the corridor (it's strange how Jon doesn't make any sound when being picked up suddenly).

Damian climbs him like some sort of jungle gym, fierce and unrelenting. 'You left me.' The twerp says, eyes red and puffy. 'I'm sorry, Damian.' The boy sniffs loudly, and a sheen of tears shines in Damian's eyes. Ever the brat, he hides in Jason's chest, smearing snot and tears on Jason's favourite red hoodie. But there's no place Jason would rather be.

\--

It goes like this: Jason's in Damian's room, smothering the boy in hugs and reading to him in attempts to make Damian stop crying. There's a knock on the door, and Tim appears, hair a bird's nest. He shuffles next to Jason's spot on the bed, 'sorry for saying that to you.' Jason only pulls Tim into bed, hugging his middle as he continues reading. Dick comes in next, with Jon in tow, and joins the trio. Jon sits next to Damian (as always), snuggling into his side, while Dick squishes himself on the other side of Jason, head lying on Jason's shoulder. Cass slips in through the window (causing Jon to frown, confused) and lies in the space between Dick and Jason's legs, curling up on Jason's thigh. Stephanie brings in a platter of cookies and milk, sitting on Tim's thighs. Titus and Alfred the Cat are by the children's feet, silent but vigilant. Barbara wheels herself in, Stephanie and Tim helping her up, she lies next to Damian, red hair splayed out like a fan. Kate steps in silently, smiling slightly, climbing atop the bed and sitting comfortably next to Jon (who looks at her red hair in awe, 'your hair and Barbara's hair are very pretty,' he says). Alfred comes in, bringing more snacks and Jason's favourite floral tea, dragging a sitting chair next to the bed ('it would be unprofessional to be in bed, sirs and misses.') Bruce arrives last, and Jason tenses himself for the confrontation, even while the rest of his family members are giving him looks of comfort. 'I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't think- I  _will_ try harder, this time.' Bruce's eyes are weathered but bright with hope. Who was Jason to deny his dad of family bonding? He smiles, and points to the only other place left on the bed, right opposite Kate. 

It ends like this: Jason knows he's fucked up, but he's working his way to getting better. He knows he's loved, and he has his family there to remind him that he's treasured. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sAY IT WITH ME: KATE KANE IS THE BEST AUNT. 
> 
>  
> 
> (( jon is there and jason thinks that jon's family, for anyone wondering ))


	3. Everything I've Ever Said. .  .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all the times Damian's said "I hate you" to Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have like 2 chapter drafts i'm too uninspired to finish

**1**

Damian wasn't angry, he  _wasn't,_ even if he did look sort of pissed off. 

They were on their way back to the Manor after sneaking out to go to the arcade, which was all  _Damian's_ idea, because the Cheese Viking arcade machine that the Waynes possessed was broken. Three hours after they left, an angry Jason had called to hound them about going back — Talia had arrived. 

The young Wayne doesn't know much about his birth mother, having been sent off to be raised by his father three months after being born, but he does know that Bruce had loved Talia very much, and had sacrificed a lot for her. He also knew that Dick resented her — for taking Jason away from them, as well as keeping Damian a secret until after birth. Talia is a queen of a kingdom, having succeeded her father (his grandfather, he shudders) after his death. She did not have time to tend to a baby while trying to maintain order in her kingdom, as Damian was born a few weeks before Ra's death. 

He doesn't blame her for prioritizing her birthright over him, he doesn't particularly  _care,_ but he does resent her for having high expectations of him even though she was never there. Every now and then, Talia's name would pop up at the dinner table, accompanied by how "unruly" Damian's behaviour was, and how crass he is. When Jason had returned home, he'd brought with a "list" of expectations Talia had wanted from Damian. 

Jason would've burnt the crumpled piece of parchment, if not for Damian's insistence on reading it. 

They arrive at the great doors of the Manor, shadows bleeding onto the normally pale steps leading to the doors. Jon stands beside him, as he usually does, playing with the sleeves of Damian's jacket. Damian doesn't attempt to stop him, not even when the door opens to reveal Talia. His mother's face is not new to him, he's seen it every now and then in the news. Her sharp features and hard eyes do not faze him, but Jon seems to shrink against him. Damian's jaw tightens. 

'Damian,' she speaks, voice in disdain, 'what are you doing, fooling around with. . .  _him.'_ Her eyes cut to Jon, whose fingers are curled tightly against the tan jacket, the younger boy pales even further, eyes downcast and dark. Damian tugs his arm, causing Jon to squeak and stumble, walking right past Talia. Not even a third of the way into the foyer, and Talia's voice slices through the air once again. 'Damian, will you not greet your mother?'  _Selina Kyle is more of a mother than you'll ever be, and she's only around during the holidays._ Damian's jaw tightens impossibly, he's very tempted to walk away, ensure Jon isn't in the way of Talia's words, but something stops him. 

From the top of the stairs, Jason's strange eyes looks at the pair of boys. His lips are set in a firm line. Father is behind him, a hand clamped on Jason's shoulder. His brother says nothing. 

'Mother,' he finally says, his hand has found Jon's smaller ones. Jon grips onto it like an additional lifeline. He doesn't turn around, ready to walk up those stairs and rid himself of the tension, when Talia's voice rings aloud. 'Where were you? I thought I sent Jason to inform you of my visit.' 

 _Jason isn't your errand boy,_ he snarls viciously in his head. 'I was at the arcade, with Jon.' His hand was numb now. 

'The  _arcade,'_ she sneers, 'and whose idea was that?' 

Damian knows the "consequences" of admitting to Talia about his "error" and "childishness", but he is willing to bear them anyways. Instead, almost immediately, Jon shouts, 'it was my idea!' The blue-eyed boy sounded almost defensive as well. Damian's entire body tenses in rage, a snappish retort on his lips, he can feel the fear Jon is giving off, the way Jon trembles and twitches causes his stomach to coil up. 

'Of course it was your idea. There was no way my son would've thought of  _sneaking out_ to visit the  _arcade_ like some  _child.'_ Talia hisses, and Damian imagines her green eyes (darker than his own, they'll always be a darker shade than his own) tearing Jon into bits. 'You are not useful to him, leave.' She commands, but before anything can happen, Jason's flying down the stairs and crashing into her. 

'You leave my kid brother and his friend alone,' he growls, a rage so strong it makes Damian freeze. Damian turns around, trying to figure what set Jason off, but sees his brother holding onto Talia's collar, poised for a fight. Talia herself looked pretty calm, her face lax. 'Jason, let go,' she says emotionlessly, and when he doesn't budge, she tries it again in a harder tone. 'The two of you, go upstairs,' Jason doesn't look at them, Damian takes his chance and physically drags a petrified Jon to his room. 

He hears Jason roar  _"leave! Leave and never come back!"_ before he closes the bedroom door. 

Once in the safety of Damian's room, Jon breaks down. Damian notices it immediately, the trembles have become shivers and Jon's shoulders hunches in. The boy cries silently, still gripping onto Damian's hand. He gets progressively louder: whimpers turning into hiccups before the sobs start tearing out of his throat. Damian doesn't disturb him yet, flexing his fingers and holding Jon's hand just as tight. He steers them towards the giant bean bags situated in front of his windows, forcing Jon to sit down and passing him a box of tissues. 

'You fool,' he mutters, trying to get the seven year old to stop hiding his face his arm, 'let me see you.' Jon drops his arm, allowing Damian to wipe his face clean as best as the Wayne could. 'Why did you do that?' Damian asks softly, making sure to wipe the snot off Jon's face entirely. 'I didn't want her to— I didn't want,' Jon's hiccups grow worse, fresh tears pouring out his eyes. 'Hush now, Jonathan,' he soothes, 'I would've been fine.' Jon shakes his head vigorously, face red from crying. Damian sighs, his rage subsiding. 

'Didn't want her to scold you,' Jon croaks, and he sounds terrible. Damian sighs again, sinking into the blue bean bag, 'even if she does, I wouldn't care.' His friend frowns. 'I was doing it for you!' If Jon thinks taking the blame could protect Damian, then the Kents must be failing to properly educate their child. 

'I hate you for doing so,' he states simply, eyes trained on Jon's own. Jon starts crying immediately, releasing Damian's hand to rub at his eyes. Damian flinches, not expecting the reaction, trying to apologize but Jon isn't hearing any of it. At last, Damian just pulls Jon in for a hug, rubbing circles into his back and muttering "sorry"s. 

Damian doesn't care that his jacket, and possibly shirt, is stained with snot and tears. He doesn't care what Talia thinks. All he cared about was Jon, and if she had a problem with that she could leave. Leave, and never come back. 

 

**2**

'This is payback,' he mutters darkly. Tim just laughs, leaning against Conner's side, feet propped up on the park bench. Jon continued to talk animatedly to his classmate and friend, Kathy. 'This is payback for the one time I did the same thing to him,' Damian declares. 

Conner snorts, 'nah, Jonno won't do that. He's just talking to a friend who's missed school for two weeks because she's got stomach flu. You're looking too much into this, short stack.' Damian glowers at the older Kent, hands curled into fists, 'shut up,  _Conner.'_

'Oh! Not mocking the last name anymore, huh?' The jerk exclaims, 'wonder  _why.'_ Damian was going to kill him. 

Tim swats at his best friend, 'knock it off, dude. B's warned you not to set Damian off in public. We don't need to go down to the station  _again,_ do we?' Conner wisely says nothing. 

If the day didn't start out meeting his brother and Jon's older brother, Damian wondered if it would've been better. 

'What _is_  taking him so long?' Conner wonders, craning his neck to look at the two beneath the tree a few metres away. Kathy was looking rather pale, and swayed ever so often, but she was trying her best to listen to Jon. There was a folder in her hand, most presumably her homework. Damian glanced at Jon, memories of an accidental phone call still fresh in his mind. 

A few seconds later, Jon comes running over to them. Damian scowls, 'I hate you.' Jon merely gives him a confused look. Damian stands, leaving the three in the dust as he represses the memories. 

'What's up with him?' 

'I don't know, honestly.'

 

**3**

They are three days away from going home after a family vacation to a beach resort when Jon suddenly decides to get sick. 

'I'm sorry for making you stay behind,' a miserable Kent groans, eyes puffy from unshed tears. Damian rolls his eyes from across their room, 'I've had enough sun for the whole month. Besides, I'm not very keen on jet skiing with Grayson for the most part of the day.' Jon coughs up a laugh, 'what? You don't trust him?' 

Damian hums as he walks towards their bed, 'I trust Grayson with a great deal of things, but Brown is much more adept at using vehicles.' Jon's little giggles put a smile on his face. 'I'll tell him when we meet for dinner,' the Kent threatens, 'unless you go make some popcorn and load up all the Ghibli films so we can marathon them!' Damian rolls his eyes again, 'you mean so  _I_ can marathon them. You always fall asleep during movie marathons, Jonathan.' He does what he's told anyway. 

'I love you!' Jon grins, cuddling into Damian's side as Howl's Moving Castle begins. 

'I hate you,' Damian huffs, leaning into his boyfriend, while snatching a short kiss. 

'You'll get sick!' Jon pushes him away, but Damian persists anyway. 

 

**4**

_'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,'_ Damian swears, wearing down the hospital floors as he paces outside Jon's operation theatre. There are tears in his eyes that he refuses to wipe, and his stomach is growling from missing lunch and dinner. His mantra continues, the silent corridors echoing his sentiment. The harsh lights irritate him and he wants to punch something, but he can't because he's overcome with fear and worry that something might happen to Jon and he should be reserving his energy for after Jon's emergency operation. 

The Kents were on their way from Metropolis. Father, Cain and Gordon were sitting on the hard plastic chairs; concern etched on their faces. 

'The  _fool,'_ Damian curses, 'charging at someone defenseless. Should've at least thought to knock the weapon away.  _Idiot.'_ He refuses to sit still. 'Damian,' Cain is suddenly in front of him, holding onto his shoulders in an iron grip. 'Sit down,' she drags Damian into a seat next to Father, a hand on his white-knuckled fist. 'He'll be okay,' she reassures. 

The tears cloud over for a bit, 'I hate him,' he bites out. 'No, no you don't. Stop saying that.' Gordon wheels her way in front of him, holding onto his other hand. A stream of tears make their way down, 'I hate how he's a self-sacrificing  _dolt,_ why can't he be selfish for once?!' Gordon and Cain don't say anything, but they rub small little circles into his hand, wiping his tears away as he cries. 

'You love him  _because_ he's a self-sacrificing dolt,' Father states, pulling him into a one-armed hug. 'Jon is a strong boy. He'll pull through.'

'He got stabbed in the  _chest,'_ Damian chokes out; remembering the assailant's arm swinging in a wide arc, knife glittering under the the street lamps, plunging into Jon's chest. There was so much  _red._

They were just out in the streets after Damian had ended work, browsing through the small shops that littered the area while sharing an ice cream cone. Then, someone was dashing towards them, a sharp knife in hand, ready to attack Damian. Jon, the stupid blockhead, had fucking pushed Damian out of the way while attempting to fight off the other person. They had obviously panicked, not expecting to be met with resistance, and swung wildly to protect themselves. Damian felt his life drain away as he watched, frozen in shock, the knife cut through Jon's skin and be buried half way to the hilt. Not a second later, Damian had knocked out the attacker, breaking a few of their bones; calling for an ambulance with shaky fingers as he made sure the knife wouldn't make the wound worse. Jon was already unconscious, having been knocked out by the fall. 

'Jon, beloved?' Damian whispered frantically, searching for signs that his lover was still somewhat alright. He knew he wouldn't get an answer, but he was afraid. The ambulance took forever to arrive, in Damian's opinion, and the  _bastard_ would be dealing with the Wayne's legal team once Jon was stabilized. 

'He'll be alright,' Father said, running a hand through Damian's hair. 'Any minute now,' he continued. As if on cue, the double doors opened to reveal a reliefed surgeon. She smiled, brown eyes tired, 'he's alright now, Mr Wayne,' she begins, looking at Father (who had stood up to talk). 'Might take a while to wake up, though. No major injuries were sustained, luckily. If he were to be stabbed at a more acute angle, the knife would have cut into his heart. He did lose quite a bit of blood, and would have to have at most 3 blood bags before his blood level would return to normal. No concussion either, which is extremely lucky. You can visit him in a few minutes, I'll return shortly to guide you to his room.'

'Thank you,' Damian breathed, all but collapsing on Cain. 'Thank you so much, ma'am.' She gave him a smile, stray strands of dark brown hair falling into her face, 'anything to help a patient's family members.' 

A few hours later, when the Kents have arrived and they'd all listened to the full report, Damian sits next to Jon's bed, stroking his fingers. Harper Row had managed to force half a sandwich and a glass of juice down his throat before he gave up and continued to stare at Jon. 'Damian— ' She sighed, 'please finish the sandwich? Dick would throttle me if you didn't. Please,' when he didn't budge, she sighed again. 'You need the energy to face Jon when he wakes up. C'mon,' she picks up the other half, placing it on his lips. Hesitantly, he opens his mouth. She gives him a small smile. 

Two days later, Damian hovers over a barely conscious Jon, eyes bright with falling tears. 

'Dami,' Jon frowned, voice cracking, 'don't cry.' He attempted to move his hand, but couldn't. Damian sniffed loudly, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of one of Jon's jackets. 'I love you, I love you, I  _love_ you. Don't— don't you  _dare_ pull this kind of stunts ever again.' Damian's voice wobbled as he spoke, Jon beamed at him. 

Damian must look like a madman, judging by Jon's responses. 'Don't be angry, I'm sorry,' the idiot soothed. 'I love you, too.'

Damian wasn't angry, he  _wasn't,_ even if he did look sort of pissed off. 

 


	4. Three Times is Three Times Too Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Jon aren't alien to the concept of babysitters. 
> 
> Or, three times their babysitters caught them trying to misbehave, and the one time they were given help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, so, chapter 2 wasn't really well received by y'all... so I guess I should stop posting batfam shorts under this project.
> 
> EDIT: this was supposed to be posted right after chap 2 but I delayed it for some reason??? I think I fell asleep writing this and forgot about it until today??

Tim stares at Bruce, wondering if his father had grown a second head.

'I beg your pardon?' Dark blue eyes are wide as saucers, a hand twitches uncomfortably. Bruce sighs, 'I need you to babysit Damian and Jon, Tim.' Tim blinks once, twice, thrice, and bursts out  _laughing._ Dick pokes his head into the den, annoyed, 'B, we're gonna be late!' Tim's giggles don't end, and he has to lean against the sofa to prevent himself from collapsing. Bruce watches, eyes unwavering, causing Tim to abruptly stop. 'Y- you're not kidding, huh?' Tim sighs, standing straight, Bruce shakes his head. 

A sinking cold envelops Tim, causing an involuntary shudder. 'B, you do know that I'm  _shit_ with kids; right? Remember that one time I had to babysit Damian, like, two months ago? He ended up in the pond and I didn't know  _how!_ You can't trust me to look after children!' Bruce makes the annoying  _"hnn"_ like he'd just solved world hunger, and walks towards the door. 'You don't like failing, Tim, I'm sure you'll do fine.'

Tim releases an unholy shriek when the car pulls off the driveway.

\--

'Alright, you two,' Tim says to the tiny duo, 'no funny business in the house, 'kay?' Damian's large green eyes peer up at him innocently, causing Tim's forehead to twitch ominously.  _'Especially_ you, Demon Brat! If I even  _hear_ you moving out of the room, I'm telling Lois and you can kiss Jon  _goodbye forever.'_ Tim will  _not_ tolerate his little brother's bullshit. And Jon - darling, sweet, angelic, Jon - who looks so drowsy and adorably  _cute_ plops himself into Damian's lap, effectively raising Tim's possibility of making it through the day. 

What he doesn't expect is that Damian's managed to corrupt Kon's baby brother. Oh  _Lord,_ Kon's going to hate him forever, and he's never going to date Tim  _ever._

Damian and Jon were playing in the den, as they always did, and Tim was trying his best to handle four group projects because he refused to be the jerk that mooches off other people. While Tim's busy, the pudgy six-year-old gives Jon a look that clearly spelt trouble. Jon trods over, apparently having lost interest in Damian's many toys. 'Dami, bath! Bath!' Tim snaps his head up at Jon's cry, 'does he want to use the toilet?' Damian nods. 'Okay, make sure to come back soon.' Tim waves them off, delving back into his presentation, mind not really present. 

The duo leave quickly, Damian carrying Jon on his back. Tim thinks nothing of it, the silence of the room boosting his productivity levels. 

He realises his error when his phone rings,  _16:07_ flashing in the top right corner of his phone. Tim accepts the call hastily, trying to remember how five hours have passed without his knowledge and  _where the fuck has Damian and Jon gone?!_

'Tim?' A worried voice asks when Tim releases a shriek. 'Are you alright?' He doesn't bother replying, raging through the Manor in attempts to find the naughty children. Alfred gives him an unimpressed stare and points in the direction of the garden outside. 'Tim, is there something wrong? Jon wasn't answering his phone, and Clark got really worried about — ' The sentence is cut off by Tim's loud sigh of relief. 

'Fuck me in the ass seven ways to Tuesday, thank God you two are safe!' Tim cries, chucking his phone onto the ground and running like a crazed man towards his young charges. Damian and Jon were out playing with the tire swing (that Jason loved so much he'd actually s _tabbed_ Roy Harper, who was visiting with Oliver Queen, when the redhead had tried to use it), an entire picnic blanket with food and drinks near the old tree. The relief ebbs into anger as a rush of heat swarms Tim's lanky frame.  _'What_ were you thinking, Damian Wayne?! You could've gotten into trouble! With Jon no less! Damian, Damian — if Jon's injured in any way Kara would  _slaughter_ me and  _eat_ me while I bleed out. Oh, tell me you're not injured, Jon. That scrape wasn't there before, was it?! Sweet God, I'm dead. Damian, your older brother's going to die and all you're doing is looking at me like I'm the Grinch?!' 

Tim's rambles are cut short when little Jon starts giggling, a high-pitched, cute giggle that has the teen's overworking heart melting. The boy doesn't stop, giggles turning into loud laughs, clapping his tiny hands and motioning for Tim to continue talking at the speed of light. 'Again! Again!' He babbles, tugging Damian's shirt sleeve with a force so strong the youngest Wayne topples onto the ground, eating dirt. Tim considers that payback for that little rascal giving him a heart attack. 

The son of Bruce Wayne was going to kill Tim before his time was up. Tim collapses in front of Jon, onto the soft picnic blanket, draping his arm over the Demon Baby like the evil older brother he is. 'We are,' he huffs, 'going to stay here until the cookies are out.'

Damian protests with a whine-sob, 'the cookies are already out, Drake!' Tim nods sagely, picking the kids up by the stomach with each arm; ensuring they can't escape. 'Exactly, we're going back in now.'

'Assss,' Jon hisses, completely oblivious to the situation. Tim's eyes turn into slits as he glares at Damian. 'If you're going to be a bad influence on little, innocent, baby Jon, I'm telling Bizarro.' 

The brat has the decency to feel ashamed. 

// Later that night, after Bruce gives a heavy scolding to Damian for using Jon as a means to sneak out instead of asking nicely, and Jason coddling Damian (who would've thought that Jason would the overbearing brother?) and making sure his punishment wasn't  _too_ harsh (a month without Jon), and Alfred looking supremely disappointed at Tim's childcare abilities, Tim finally checks his somehow not-cracked phone. 

He promptly screams, throws his phone across the room, breaks it, and cries of embarrassment. 

From: Kon <3

_Y'know, if you really wanted to have sex with me THAT desperately, all you had to do was send me a text. There wasn't a need to scream it so loud that Ma and Pa could hear it all the way from Kansas._ **[16:19]**

 _But how about a date first? Tomorrow, 8pm at Red Robin;)_ **[16:20]**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

'But why  _me?'_ Kara squeaks. 'I mean, I  _love_ those two boys; but they're so  _old_ already! Damian's, what, thirteen? He can take care of himself!' Clark sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'I know how old they are, Kara,' he drawls, 'I just need you to look after them for two hours, three hours tops. Damian can't cook a proper dinner and can't be trusted to use the microwave, cousin.' 

Her face scrunches up in defeat; looks like she would have to cancel another date. 'Didn't think of that,' she mutters darkly, Damian was a known terror in the kitchen — a billion times worse than Dick. How the little kid had managed to almost set off an explosion with the stove was a  _mystery_ to her, 'I guess I can make those buttons dinner and dessert; maybe order in supper.' Clark gives her an award winning grin. 'Go on with your date, foolish lovebird!' She shoves him out the driveway, waving as Clark and Lois leave into the horizon. 

Kara Danvers would destroy the sun for the cute pair. 

She enters the house, meeting with silence. Except those two aren't as subtle as they think are, as Jon's tiny giggles give their positions all too easily. 'Kiddos! Come help prepare dinner! Nobody's eating anything if you guys won't help!' She shouts, moving towards the kitchen. The prospect of eating someone else's food motivates her a little. 

Soon enough, two pairs of scampering feet are heard, the little troublemakers falling over each other to win a silly race. 'No running in the kitchen,' she tuts absent mindedly, rummaging through the fridge. Some cream pasta sounds amazing. She could make some baked meal with the leftovers for breakfast tomorrow, too. 'How's pasta sound?' She asks, question drowned by the chatterbox known as Jon. 

'Pasta sounds lovely,' Damian replies, not batting an eyelid when Jon tugs incessantly at his sleeves for attention. She chuckles, amused at their antics.  _Gosh, they're adorable!_ 'Jon, help Damian find the ingredients for cream pasta. You like cream pasta, right?' Jon nods rapidly, dragging his best friend by the sleeve and talking a mile a minute,  _still._ Damian, even when on the verge of falling over, remains unperturbed, maneuvering around Jon to collect the sauce and some vegetables. Kara proceeds to cook the pasta and scramble up some eggs as a side. 

They work in relative silence; Jon's gone quiet, too focused on helping her peel potatoes to talk. She doesn't allow Damian anywhere near the cooking area, handing him several items for washing. 'Damian, can you set the table, please?' The boy in question, who had just finished drying off the plates and bowls, nodded and carried the dishes and cutlery into the dining area. 'Jon, do you know how to chop vegetables?' Jon nods uncertainly. Kara frowns, 'do cherry tomatoes sound easy enough? And a couple mushrooms?' She sees him nod more confidently, and passes him the ingredients. 

Dinner with her boys go smoothly, an indication that something was wrong. Jon was washing up, Damian was packing the leftovers, and Kara was contemplating between tacos, burritos or cake for supper. Dessert was some lovely peach pie made by Ma. She was about to ask the boys what they wanted when a nagging itch forces her to check on them.

They were about to start a fight by throwing cutlery and food when Kara wordlessly enters the kitchen. They both freeze, the kitchen not yet stained, fear in their eyes. 'I'm giving you five minutes to finish up, or else no supper. And since the both of you were about to ruin the kitchen, you don't get to choose what we get for supper.' They hang their heads in shame, murmuring  _"yes, ma'am"_ dejectedly, and Kara leaves to phone for supper. 

She ends up getting them some weird healthy salad wrap while she gets herself a fattening, oily, deep-fried chicken burrito with scrambled eggs and hash browns; as well as a whole box of brownies. A smug smile is seen on her face the rest of the night as the two boys stare at her with envy in their eyes, Kara's happy munching loud and clear. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

This has to be the lowest point in Stephanie's life. She mourns her social life. Here she is, on break from college, babysitting her 17 year old brother and his 14 year old best friend.'They're  _teens!'_ She protests, arms flailing, 'they can take care of  _themselves.'_ Duke nods along, confusion on his face. 'Yeah, I'm sure they won't be doing anything like falling down stairs.' Stephanie would love to take this chance to tell Duke how much she loved him, but  _noooooo, Mr "I'm a high school dropout, and I'm running WE" **fucking steps in.**_

'Damian's been pretty weird, lately.' Tim, you son of a bitch. Dick makes a noise of agreement, 'yeah. He's been avoiding Jon as of late? He's never done that before. Jon looks like the world has ended.' Bruce sighs, rubbing his temples. 'I am aware, Dick. Which is why I called for an intervention. Lois is beyond worried about how this. . .  _situation_ may affect Jonathan.' Stephanie groans, 'I'm supposed to be the  _chaperone?_ Me? The Queen of Horrible Decisions?' Jason and Harper cackles. 'I'm pretty sure  _Dick's_ the reigning champion of horrible decisions. Remember the rat-tail? Mullet? His  _obsession_ with V-necks?' Dick retaliates to the statement physically, almost decking Jason's face in. Bruce ignores them in favour of Stephanie, 'I would've called Cassandra, but she's stuck in Hong Kong until the airports there are open again. All you have to do is make sure they don't get physical with each other.'

'Nice to know I'm second to Cass,' Stephanie sniffs. Bruce sighs again. 'That's not—  _Stephanie._ You're not second to anyone. I just didn't want to bother you on your school break. I'll make it up to you, okay?' Stephanie nods jerkily, and the Wayne family disappear from the den like freaking  _ghosts._

'I live with the supernatural,' she grumbles once more. Just then, Jon's head pops through the door, question on his face. 'He's in his room. No funny nonsense, kid. Holler if things go south. Don't try and sneak in the room, either.' Jon's head slowly retreats from the door. Stephanie releases a sorrowful moan. 

'Alfred,' she calls the aged man that was cleaning up the dust in the room, 'why don't they consider you for the job?'

'I'm afraid I'm too old for that, Miss Stephanie.'

She chokes on her drink. 

\--

Damian and Jon have somehow morphed into one being, she decided. No human anatomy worked that way. Damian's body was sprawled across the bed, head hanging off and arms in weird, worrying places. Jon lay directly atop Damian, head over the other boy's heart, legs flipped and resting on the pillows; a hand was clutching onto one of Damian's sleeves. The covers are half pooling onto the floor, and half covering Damian's left side. 'Heathens, the lot of you,' Stephanie scowls. She snaps a picture before leaving the room. 

Not an hour later, and Stephanie is storming down the halls of the Manor, five breaths away from collapsing. 

 _'BOYS!'_ She screams, throwing the doors open, the two sleeping males jump up in different states of awareness. Damian snaps up, sleep gone from his eyes in an instant, while Jon topples off the bed with a yelp. 'Can we help?' Damian offers, eyes trained worriedly on his friend. Stephanie's eyes flit across the room, they've actually been asleep the whole time. 'It's time for Jon to go home,' she lies, 'apparently Jon hasn't finished a reading assignment.' Her brother frowns, pulling his friend up. 'Jonathan. . .' he sighs, green eyes annoyed, Jon merely smiles guiltily. 

Huh. Who knew Stephanie had hit the nail on the head. 

She bets that those two would probably get married in about five years. Maybe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jason has been acting like a madman. Ever since Damian had acquired the keys to the Penthouse — which had been passed down the line, starting with Dick — Jason's been spending more time  _out_ of Gotham: hanging out in Star with Roy and Lian, going on trips with Artemis and Bizarro, surprise visits to Kory's modeling jobs, even turning up to have a quick lunch with Donna Troy. Bruce chalked it up to the fact that without Damian's presence, Jason didn't feel the need to be in the Manor. The guilt from all those years ago, when Jason had witnessed Damian crying, must have lessened into a dull pain without the boy. He still visits, bringing trinkets for everyone and tales of their travels. 

Bruce had always known that Jason was a wanderer. 

Damian doesn't visit as much, only coming over whenever Alfred requested; and only staying up to an hour, at most. Bruce wasn't sure  _why_ such behaviour cropped up in his son, but he would like to know. Tim had told him that it was a "Damian thing" to do, 'to avoid basically everyone because he feels like he doesn't deserve the company — apparently Jason's a pretty good therapist.' He frowned, not understanding why Damian's self- esteem took a dive once he moved out.  _Maybe it's the stress,_ he theorized, since Tim had handed Damian the reigns of WE once Damian made it clear he was ready to lead, and was now heading Drake Industries. Bruce hadn't stopped either of his sons, having complete faith in their abilities and goals. But was letting Damian run the corporate giant at such a young age the right thing to do? He gnaws his lips, Tim was trained by the Drakes since childhood, it was in his life essence. Damian, on the other hand, had needed to learn everything from scratch at six; and he still hasn't stopped learning. 

Perhaps Bruce should call for an intervention, again. Make sure his son was truly alright. He's done this with Tim before — and Dick, during his short stint as WE's CEO, before quitting to be a cop — but each of his sons were different. The weekly phone calls he has with each of his children have lessened over the months, he noticed. 

Bruce Wayne just wanted his family to as close-knit as ever.

Alfred knocks on the door of his study, startling him. 'Sir, Young Master Jason and Damian have returned.' There is a soft tone of fondness in the old man's voice, Alfred looked as youthful as ever, like when he'd brought Dick home all those years ago. 'I'll meet them now.' The thought of seeing his sons breathes fresh air into his paranoid mind. He treads downstairs, wondering how his sons have changed. 

The others still live within the walls of the Manor, bringing with them an energy Bruce never experienced before. But Bruce was a selfish man, he would not be satiated until his second eldest and youngest sons return home for good. 

The den is rowdy, as usual, with laughs and shrieks. Little Mar'i was bubbling with joy at being surrounded by her aunts and uncles, unearthly green eyes lighting up at the sight of Bruce. 'Grandpa!' She squeals, flinging herself in his way. 'Mar'i,' he smiles warmly, 'Jason; Damian,' his eyes go over every inch of their bodies: Jason looks tired but content, a strain in his shoulder from possibly a fight, hair in a messy flop; Damian's entire body is relaxed, open, he's thrilled to see his niece, not a sign of stress in him. Jason grins a bright smile at him, a true "Robin" smile, that he hadn't seen in years. Damian inclines his head, but he too wears his version of the smile. 

'It's the holidays, boss!' Jason whoops, jostling a sleeping Lian next to him. Roy glares half-heartedly at his husband, eyes bright. The wedding was just under a year ago, Bruce doesn't know how Roy deals with Jason's spontaneous trips. Kory smiles fondly and kisses Jason on the cheek, while Wally snorts cocoa up his nose. Tim's slouched in the corner of the sofa, talking softly to Conner while being fed cookies. Stephanie and Duke are in a heated game of charades with Cass, while Barbara spectates in amusement. Harper barks a laugh at an awful joke that slips out of her own mouth, because his daughter is crude like that. Kate and Renee are exchanging looks of exasperation as Duke promptly fails, again. 

'It's the holidays, Jaylad,' he agrees. He doesn't miss the devious smirk planted on Damian's face. 

Right then, the doors of the den are blown open by a heaving Jonathan, who appears to be dragging the most enormous Christmas tree to ever grace the earth. Kate blinks blankly. 'I-I've got it, Dames!' Jonathan's cheeks are red with either joy or the lack of oxygen. Damian looks incredibly pleased with him, 'indeed, beloved. Now, rest. Have you brought the rest?' Jonathan gives a dopey smile. 'Wait,' Wally blanches, 'what?'  _What indeed._ His youngest then drags the tree over to the corner, next to the window, with boxes of decorations. Jonathan, however, approaches Kate with another large box. 'Uh, these. . . I got them all, right?' 

He looks sheepish, most peculiar. 

Kate is just as confused, lifting the cardboard box with interest. A big smile crosses her face, and his cousin toussles Jonathan's hair. 'Oh, goodness, you've brought them  _all!"_ Bruce guesses it's the sacred items, as well as decorations, for Hanukkah. 

'We shall set up for Hanukkah first, then decorate the tree,' Damian declares, a pleased look on his face. Jonathan's exhaustion has turned into excitement, as he tugs on Damian's sleeve with enough force to topple a skyscraper, 'Damian! Damian! We got through with the plan!' Stephanie curses loudly, throwing her beanie onto the floor, 'I should've known!' She groans. 

The others are just laughing at the pained look on Damian's face, clearly remembering how they stopped the pair from trying to get into trouble. 'That we did, beloved,' his youngest smiles. 

Maybe this year wasn't so lonely and distant after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively: how Jon developed the habit of tugging at Damian's sleeves like a wild animal, whilst Damian remains somehow upright.


	5. Tea in a Penthouse, with a Side of Oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is caught in a dilemma, and there's only one person — who isn't _Grayson_ — that can help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, as a prelude to the next chapter, have some Damian and Jason bonding time! It takes place before Stephanie "babysits" the pair of adorable messes.

He's in agony. 

It's been _three weeks_ since the  _incident._ Damian has been avoiding Jonathan for **_three weeks._** He doesn't know how much more he can handle from that boy. 

'So, remind me again,' Jason stares down upon him in nothing but a towel, 'why are you  _here_ instead of the Manor?' He leans casually against the doorway, blocking Damian's only entry point into the penthouse.

'I missed you,' Damian replies automatically. Normally, any sort of emotional guilt-tripping that Damian forces onto his brother would work. He just prayed that the older man would cave in today as well. 'Yeah, no,' his brother snorts, 'as if you would miss me after not seeing me for like, what — nine hours?' Damian glares petulantly at the floor, igniting a sigh from Jason. 'Kid, you spent the whole of last night practically glued to my side during the gala. Stop lying, what's up with you today?' Damian refuses to acknowledge that he's being spoken to, choosing instead to focus on the tiles of the penthouse. Jason sure did outdo himself on re-designing the place, given how much it resembled a  _dumpster_ when Grayson lived in it just a few months ago. 

Has it really been that long since Jason's moved out?

Another sigh. 'Alright, whatever it is, I bet Dick's first-born kid that it's gotta do with Jon.' And at the slight mention of his best friend's name —  _who he took advantage of three weeks ago_ — and his face flushes like a tomato. Jason groans, pulling Damian into the penthouse whilst slamming the door shut behind him. He leads him to a massive reading chair, then disappears into the unknown. Damian curls up in the soft, pillowy heaven, desperately trying to forget the way Jonathan  _butchered_ his name; how Jonathan's voice was so flooded with lust, and how amazing he sounded when he gave little mewls and pants.  _Damian Wayne, head out of the gutter. Head. Out. Of. The. Gutter._

If Mother were here now, she'd be awfully disappointed in him.

'Nah, don't think Tals would be  _that_ parent,' Jason spooks him up into sitting stock still, 'I mean; she's pretty shit and all, but I don't think she has a problem with you and your hormones.' Damian is going to kill himself. 'So, you've got the hots for your bestie? Big deal.' Damian was going to  _murder_ Jason. 'And you jerked off to him? That's cool.' Before Damian could make his move, though, Jason pinned him down with a  _very_ Talia-like glare that screamed regret if he moved. 'I'm carrying a whole pot of hot tea, dingus; so if you wanna boil your dick into tofu and never even  _try_ to have sex with Jon, you'd best sit down.' Damian grits his teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously, Jason ignores him by pouring tea into two very ornate cups — which was probably a gift from Kate — and dropping two sugar cubes into one cup.

They take a moment to appreciate the tea, with Damian's being slightly sweeter and less earthy, before Jason speaks up again. 'I think your mom would be more disappointed in the fact that you add sugar into tea before even tasting it. That's  _disgusting,_ Demon Baby.' Damian responds by slurping on his drink louder, igniting a whack from Jason. 'Don't do that shit in front of me, or so help me,' he threatens. There is a slight silence, then, 'has B given you the "Birds and Bats" talk yet?' 

If Damian was trying his best not to choke, he'd probably have snorted tea all over the place. Coughing slightly, Damian reluctantly shakes his head. 'Grayson said that any sort of sex talk should be guided by you,' and this results in an underwhelming response of  _"hnn"._ 'Yeah, well, I only give sex talks to those that need it; and if Dickass already told you to come to me, it means that B's already talked to you.' Damian takes in a deep breath, 'I feel like the world's largest scum.' 

'For jerking off to your best friend?' Jason gives him an incredulous look, puzzling Damian. 'Yes,' he answers slowly, 'is it not wrong?' Jason shrugs, 'I mean,  _kinda,_ and you'd feel like shit for doing it; but not to the extent of feeling like Hell should reserve a spot for you. I don't know about the girls, nor Duke, but the other two and I did jerk off to our best friends, like a few times.' Damian's brain short-circuits for a bit, before he croaks out a "what". Again, Jason looks at him incredulously, 'what? Dick-shit never told you? Un-fucking-real.' 

There is  _no_ way that Richard Grayson, Boy Wonder of the Wayne Family, has masturbated and  _came_ while thinking about  _Wallace Rudolph West._ **No.** He grips the tea-cup a little tighter than needed, because Grayson's never shown any type of romantic or sexual interest in the redheaded boy, and has spent most of his teenage life trying to win over Gordon — and later, Anders. 'Isn't he married to Anders?' Jason snorts, 'didn't you hear? They split up a month ago, claimed that they weren't interested in each other anymore. Mar'i's not going to be affected, since Kory's still gonna live in the Manor. Just a week ago I caught her giving the goon  _relationship advice.'_ No, Damian did  _not_ know that Grayson and Anders had divorced. He should pay more attention to the happenings in the estate. 

Jason sighs again, 'look. If you really feel bad about it, just say you're sorry. Explain it to him. Clear out all the weeds. There isn't any use trying to drown in your guilt, it won't solve anything.' Damian stares at him, mind blank. 'I mean, I apologised to Roy; and then he laughed and called it an honour. Two months later and  _boom!_ we're kind of dating.' 

'You're in a  _relationship_ with  _Roy Harper?!'_ Damian's voice boomed through the living room, causing Jason to flinch. 'Since when?!' He demanded, how  _dare_ Harper try to steal Jason away from him, from their family! It was simply unforgivable! He was going to  _skin_ Harper alive and use it as a flag as soon as he leaves the penthouse. 'What fucking  _century_ are you living in, kid? I was dating him since I was  _nineteen._ I'm, like, twenty-one now!' Damian trips over his words, blinded by rage, 'but- but he's  _older_ than you! He's close to  _thirty!'_ Jason places his teacup on its saucer, does the same for Damian, before hitting him over the head. 

Immediately, tears swarm his eye. 'Don't you take age as an excuse,' Jason says calmly, 'B has no problem with it, Ollie's got nothing.' Damian bares his teeth, grinding it painfully, 'he'll take you away from me again!'

'Besides, it's not that big of an age gap! There —  **wait what?'** Jason sounds like the air had been knocked out of his body, but Damian dares not peek at him, too ashamed at his outburst and watches the sugar cubes in the bowl melt in the heat of the apartment. _Jason never grew out of disliking the cold,_ a small part of his brain chimes. 'You think I'll  _leave_ again? What?' The confusion is so clear in his brother's voice, it's akin to a cry. 'Damian, look at me,' he coaxes softly, trying to hide the hurt in his tone. 

Hesitantly, he drags his eyes to look at his brother's. Bright green to a mixed green. 'You moved out.' Jason breathes sharply, hands outstretched in an attempt to pull the youngest Wayne closer. 'Damian, no,' there's an unknown emotion that seeps into his voice, trembling and guilty. 'Damian, did B ever tell you  _why_ I moved out?' There's a shake of a head, and a soft curse follows. 'I'll  _eviscerate_ him when I go back,' he growls. It's a sound that Damian doesn't like hearing,  _aggression_ and  _Jason Todd_ are always grouped together, but there's something different about it this time. 

Damian has the urge to run. 

But Jason's always more in-tune with everyone, more empathetic than anyone. Cain may be able to read a person like an open textbook, but Jason's able to go  _beyond_ that. His hand shoots up to catch the ends of Damian's hoodie, a knock-off, oversized, yellow Adidas  _monster,_ which causes Damian to jerk away from the touch.  _Like a wounded animal,_ his voice supplements. 'Damian,  _listen_ to me,  _please,'_ Jason pleads, trying to grasp at his hoodie again. Just as Damian thinks he can run, Jason shouts, 'it's because Talia wants to bring me back.' 

Damian's entire heart freezes in a cold fire. 'You're going to leave me again.' 

Jason's eyes are clashing in pain and confusion, swarmed in anguish and darkness. 'No,  _no,_ I  _promised_ you, Dami. I'm  **not** leaving.' The tea has turned cold, the thermostat needs to be cranked up a little higher. 'I just need a little time,' Jason gulps, 'I need to convince her, tell her that I'm  _perfectly fine_ here; I need to show her that I'm not the kid she found all those years,' the words get softer toward the end. Damian isn't  _too_ sure as to what happened when Jason disappeared the first time, all he knew was that Kate was  _livid_ at Father and bombarded him with scoldings so  _fierce_ even  _Alfred_ didn't dare to mediate the one-sided argument; and that Grayson had been aware of what happened and started a bloody shouting match with Father over how Jason was raised and how Jason's mental health was not Father's top priority. Grayson had even went as far as to ensure that Father could never have any alone time with Jason until the problem was addressed. 'I'll move back when she's gone,' he promises, bright teal hardening into steel. 

'Promise?' He sounded so  _vulnerable,_ weak. Jason swears on his deceased mother's grave before Damian allows himself to be crushed into a hug. His muscles lose their tension immediately, and he relaxes in his brother's arms. 

He was  _not,_ however, expecting Jason to  _utterly betray_ him by taking his phone out of his pocket and sending a text to Jonathan asking the younger boy to go over to the Manor for a "talk".  _'Todd,'_ he snarls, ready to punch him in the gut, but the imbecile is halfway out the door shouting  _"Meet you in the Manor! Don't forget Steph's coming home!"._ Damian knew that nothing  _good_ ever came out of being around Roy Harper.

Oh  _God,_ how was he going to confront Jonathan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a slightly NSFW chapter, which ties in near the end of the first chapter; when Damian is 21 and has been very tortured by Jon's innocently-innuendo-ish actions. I swear, that chapter will come out soon. I have all the ideas and everything. I just don't know why my subconscious mind is steering me away from it.


	6. Fall in My Arms, Fall For My Eyes (don't leave me, please)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reconcile. Damian continues to deny his feelings for Jon, while Jon can't help but think about the "what-if"s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!! did you miss me?
> 
> probably not lol

Damian must really hate him, Jon thinks, wiping away tears of disappointment as his call gets sent straight to voicemail. 'Stupid Damian,' he mutters, flinging himself onto the carpet. His eyes start watering again, but before he could even entertain the thought of sobbing like a baby on his grandma's couch, a small  _ping~_ goes off on his phone. 

'Go 'way,' he sniffs, kicking the electronic under the coffee table. Behind him, someone sighs. 'Jon, come on,' Kon nudges, 'it's been  _weeks,_ will you tell your big brother what's wrong? Hm?' Jon buries his head into the cushions, pretending not to hear the screen door open and his dad's footsteps stop dead next to Kon. 'Jonno?' Dad hums, ruffling his hair, 'it isn't good to keep it all in.' 

The both of them get a watery sniff in reply. 

Kon sighs, muttering about talking to Aunt Kara about one thing or another, flopping himself onto the worn couch. 'Whenever you're ready, Jon,' his brother pats his head, pulling notebooks out of his bag and continuing his weekend homework. 

'Stupid Damian,' he says, a tint of anger in his voice. Kon doesn't attract any attention, so he goes on, 'ignoring me for three weeks when I haven't even done  _anything_ to him! I'm - I just,' he was close to the point of bawling his poor eyes out when his phone wails loudly from under Kon's ass, startling the older boy into jumping off his seat. Jon scrambles to reach it, ignoring Kon's shouts of  _"don't just throw your phone like that!"_ and accepting the call. 

 _Jason!!,_ the caller ID read. 'Yeah?' Jon croaks, inwardly wincing at how pathetic he sounded. 'Oh dear Lord in Heaven,' Jason pants, the roaring of a motorcycle loud in Jon's ear, 'he's made you  _cry,_ oh my God. Kara is going to fucking  _skin me alive_ and throw me under a bridge.' Jon chooses not to point out the fact that Jason just cussed loudly, 'Jason? Is everything okay?' The rev of an engine rips in his ears, and Jason shouts a final  _"check your texts!"_ before hanging up. 

Puzzled, Jon does as he's told. 

**From: Damian Wayne**

_Can you come over to the Manor? We need to talk._

**Message sent at 15:37**

Oh God, Damian probably got bored of him; and wants to officially break up with him.

 _Wait,_ he blinks,  _break up?_ Was that the right phrase to use? 

**To: Damian Wayne**

_I'll be there_ _tomorrow!_

**Message sent at 15:37**

Jon was going to die tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

 

Kon drives him to the Manor the next day. 

'I'm going to be out with Tim; we'll be at the library. Whenever you wanna head home, just give me a call!' Kon states as Jon exits the car, 'thanks, Kon,' he murmurs softly, walking dejectedly into the Manor. 'Hey, Mr Alfred,' he greets mopingly, trudging past the elderly butler. 'Good afternoon, Master Jon,' Alfred greets, nonplussed at Jon's sour mood, disappearing into the Manor before Jon could ask where Damian was. 

He ends up walking into the den, creaking the door open just enough to stick his head in. He spots Stephanie, flipping througgh a magazine. He's about to open his mouth when Stephanie instructs him on Damian's whereabouts, he slips out quietly, dragging his feet across the carpet. Stalling for time has never been a strong point of his. 

As he approaches the doors to Damian's room, his heart begins to thunder, a million negative things pop up in his mind.  _What if Damian wants to kick me away? What if Uncle Bruce doesn't allow Damian to be with me anymore? Is his mom going to take him away?_

Jon doesn't want Damian to leave. His eyes, still puffy and red from the crying, begin tearing up again. His hand touches the cool brass doorknobs, jerking him into reality,  _I don't want to be without Damian._ He twists the doorknob agonisingly slowly, the hiccups starting to build up in his throat.  The door is pushed open, revealing a pair of emerald green eyes Jon's grown to love over the years. Damian's wearing a simple dark green sweater and black sweatpants, his feet bare and propped on the bed.

If Jon had been trying not to cry moments before, he's definitely going to cry now.

His vision gets blurred instantly, and he barges in, running clumsily through Damian's room and crashing into the stupid boy with a hug. Waterfalls have managed to gush out of his eyes and his hiccups are uncontrollable, he's hitting Damian's chest with all he's got. He can't seem to stop crying. 

'Hate you, hate you,' he sobs, Damian stays quiet, arms trapping Jon in a tight embrace, and hands playing with his hair. 'Stupid Damian,' he says louder, struggling against Damian's arms, panting with dry tears. After another ten seconds, Jon calms down, burying his face in the material of Damian's ridiculously soft sweater, eyes heavy and throat dry. 

Damian shifts slightly, making Jon lean forward into him even more, 'are you tired, Be- Jonathan?' He asks softly, carding fingers through his hair. Jon moans slightly, glaring weakly at Damian's collar, 'y'ur fa'lt,' he mumbles. He doesn't notice Damian stiffen, fingers jerking away slightly. ''S cold, Damian,' Jon continues, inching forward so that he's sitting on Damian's lap. He brings his face close to the other boy's neck, sighing happily as warmth blooms across his right cheek.  

The Wayne gulps, sending a shiver down Jon's spine pleasantly. Damian shakes his head and forces him to lie down, ignoring him even when he whines at the loss of warmth, draping a blanket over the both of them. 

'Sleep,' the green-eyed boy whispers, and Jon is quick to comply. 

 _Please don't leave me,_ he wishes, gripping onto Damian's sweater and bringing him closer. Damian laces their fingers together.

 

* * *

 

 

Damian's resolve breaks the moment he sees Jonathan's puffy eyes, bright with tears, as the door swings open. He doesn't dare tear his eyes away from the mess that he'd created from his stupidity. Todd had been right, none of this was worth it. An apology is caught in his throat, and it leaves him in a choked off breath when Jonathan collapses into him, hitting him repeatedly (albeit weakly). His voice is wrecked, rough and hoarse like the poor boy had been crying non-stop for  _days._ The guilt intensifies as Jonathan starts bawling into his favourite sweater, soaking it immediately, 'hate you,  _hate you,'_ he whispers vehemently, tired and sleepy. 

Was the idiot even  _resting_ properly? 

Jonathan's asssault on him gets considerably weaker, prompting Damian to wrap his around the boy, bringing him closer whenever Jonathan tried to struggle. He buries his face into Jonathan's hair, catching the barely-there hint of apples in the inky black. Fingers familiarise themselves with the mess of hair, while Jonathan doesn't stop muttering. He's caught between a rock and a hard place, not knowing how to explain the stupidity of his actions. There was nobody else to blame but himself.

Eventually, the younger boy gets tired, stopping in Damian's arms. Carefully, he moves to make space, 'are you tired,  _Be-_ Jonathan?' A blush rises up his neck,  _I almost called him **beloved,**_ Jonathan's response is slurred, worrrying him even more. Yet, the boy doesn't move away to rest, but instead moves  _closer_ onto Damian's  _lap._

Red alarms are blaring at him in his head, but he cannot cave. Damian gulps, hearing Jon's little noises that made his underwear a little tighter. His face darkens more, noticing how pliant his best friend was. Jonathan's shiver brings him back the land of sin, prompting him to properly take care of the best friend he failed for three weeks. A whine tears from Jon's throat, causing Damian to startle, his breathing quickens, his head feels hotter. 

 _God, Jonathan,_ he wants to just tear into Jonathan right there and then. But he can't, this is his  _best friend._ Another shiver wracks Jonathan's slim form, causing him to hurriedly wrap the Kent up, but the blue-eyed boy latches onto him; and he topples next to Jonathan. Tired, bright eyes stare at him from under the blanket, a small smile is presented to him. 

Jonathan Kent will be the end of Damian.

He settles next to his best friend, watching in amusement as Jonathan struggled to keep his eyes open. 'Sleep,' he whispers fondly, and the last of the younger boy's resolve fades away into slumber; still seeking more of Damian, his head resting on Damian's chest. 

Damian intertwines their fingers together. 'Sleep, Beloved.'

It had a nice ring, he must admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason why the boys' perspectives sometimes don't add up is because they choose to ignore certain things. Jon is so tired he doesn't notice how torn Damian is, all he wants is for Damian to stay. Damian's decidedly choosing to push any actions that pin him as being "in-love" with Jon, until the last part, because he can't lose his best friend to some little "crush". 
> 
> However, Damian's also tired, having been in a dilemma for quite a while, arguing against himself on why he isn't in love with Jon. In a moment's weakness, what he wants most (to call Jon what his mother used to call his father) is revealed.
> 
>  
> 
> I'VE BEEN STAVING OFF WRITING ANYTHING PROVOCATIVE BUT GOD DAMN, THE DISCORD CHAT IS DRIVING ME INSANE. SAYA, ZARA AND SHIRRY, IF YOU SEE THIS -- IT'S PARTLY YOUR FAULT. sorry josh, i know i promised fluff, but uh.. is this enough?


	7. Here's The Limit, But I Have Yet to Pass It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's been waiting for three years. Three agonising, painful years of not touching his boyfriend. Three years of watching, wanting something he can't have. 
> 
> What's waiting another day, when he's already craved for three years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> russian roulete is such a bop oh my god

The celebration for his Beloved's eighteenth birthday is grand, as it should be, the main ballroom in Wayne Manor has been decked out in swirling reds and dazzling blues; the colours that suited Jonathan the most. Friends of both the Kents and Waynes gathered in small circles, sharing stories and trading gossips, Damian watches on with a flute of champagne in his hand. 

While the guest list was tremendous, by no means was the party uncomfortable. Damian relaxes in the group he's currently in, comprising Maya Ducard, Kathy Branden, Kori Anders, Wallace West and Todd. He feels a small headache forming at the thought of either Maya or Branden teaming up with the other three in a prank war. Hell would quiver and fall in their combined presence. 

He makes a mental note to steer Maya away from the rest of his siblings. 

'How is your relationship, West?' Damian interjects, cutting Todd off before he could even consider brainwashing the two girls to join him in his crusade of painting every ceiling in the Manor his favourite shade of green. West, as expected, turns a bright shade of red that could rival his own hair, mumbling softly into Ander's shoulder. A smirk makes its way onto Damian's face, 'I beg your pardon?' Todd shakes his head, hiding his laughs by chewing on his eclair with a strong determination. Anders pats the man's back sympathetically, cooing over how adorable West was. 

'I said, it's going great,' West mutters loudly. The damn breaks and both Wayne siblings start cackling as Grayson approaches them. 'Walls?' He questions, tilting his head to a side, causing his fringe to fall over one of his eyes. Wally burns brighter, squeaking something about food and running off. Damian wheezes louder, almost dropping his flute, 'oh, dear, and I thought he would've gotten used to it by now.' 

Todd laughs louder, startling Jordan and Allen a few steps away. 

Grayson frowns, plucking both their drinks out of their hands, 'that's enough, the both of you. How many glasses have you had, Jay?' Todd doesn't snatch his wine back, opting to lean against their oldest brother instead. 'Not much, I've been sharing all my drinks with Roy.' Grayson's eyes narrow for a minute second, eyes darting to search for the redhead, before a smile tugs up his lips, 'the both of you are so fucking  _adorable,_ you know that? God, I love you both.' Anders smacks his arm, hissing for him to mind his language near their infant daughter. Grayson laughs, apologising, and kisses Anders' cheek. 

'The both of you are disgustingly domestic,' Maya snorts, sipping her cider. Branden giggles beside her, blue eyes twinkling. 'Oh, hush, Maya, you're just jealous.' Grayson waves her comment away, taking the child from Anders' arms. 'I'll be taking care of the cute pumpkin now, Kori. Hope you don't mind!' With that, he waltzes off in search of his boyfriend. Anders laughs lightly, and calls out in a teasing voice, 'don't do anything inappropriate with Wally in front of her!' 

'Me?! I would never!' Grayson shouts back, face offended. Todd barks out an  _"as if!",_ to which Grayson flips him off for. Father catches them in the act, a look of regret and disappointment on his face. 

'This is what happens when Grayson is a father,' Damian teases, causing Father's frown to deepen, 'Anders, I suggest taking Mar'i away from him.' 

Anders' bright laugh carries forth into the night, glowing green eyes bright with mirth. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Well into the party, Damian's eyes latch onto his boyfriend's well-defined face. His lips melt into a smile as he walks towards the other boy, 'good evening, Jonathan,' he greets, dropping a light kiss on a tanned cheek. Jonathan chirps happily, light blue eyes darting elsewhere. 'Happy birthday, Beloved,' Damian whispers into his neck, eliciting a shiver. 

He moves closer, a hair's width away from sealing their lips together, eyes lidded, but pulls away at the last second. Jonathan's face of confusion brings him a twisted sense of joy. 'How are you enjoying tonight, Beloved?' He asks, smiling sweetly. Instantly, the boy brightens up, 'it's amazing! I haven't had such an amazing birthday party in ages! And to rekindle with so many of our old friends, too!' 

'I did miss Rachel, I suppose,' Damian hums, not missing the way Jonathan frowns slightly. 'You did?' The other boy sounds terribly upset, 'are you unwell, Jonathan?' He knows exactly  _why_ his love is in a bad mood, but he plays the fool. 'Well,' Jonathan starts, 'I mean, it has been a while since you met her, hasn't it? Makes sense to miss her! Have you talked to Garth and Wally II yet? Man, their jobs are so  _cool!'_ He sounds absolutely awestruck, like the previous topic of conversation never happened. 

Damian nods, 'yes, I've heard how well they've been doing. If I'm not mistaken, Rachel has mentioned something similar.' Jonathan falters again, face flickering between irritation and confusion. Damian smiles, laughing to himself. Jonathan sure was gullible. 

Just then, the raven swoops in, her dark blue dress swishing loudly to announce her arrival. 'Damian, Jon,' her hoarse voice greets quietly. Damian raises his cup of water at her in return, an eyebrow poised as if to tease her current participation in the conversation. 

'Rachel,' he returns the greeting warmly, barely hiding the grin on his face. Rachel Roth stares at him, inky eyes blankly stating,  _I know what you're doing._ He blinks,  _I'm doing nothing._ She turns to Jonathan, a small smile on her face. 'Happy birthday, Jon.' Jonathan beams, awkward but adorable, 'thanks, Rachel!' As soon as he closes his mouth, Damian picks the conversation back up, 'how has the writing world been treating you?'

'Teenage angst is very profitable,' is her blunt answer. Damian barely manages to get his sip of water down the right pipe, coughing lightly. 'I-I see,' he remarks, 'they are quite annoying to read, I must say.' She hums, looking him right in the eye, 'is it? My muse must have been feeling particularly angsty, then. I apologise.' His jaw clenches,  _aren't I your writing muse, Roth?_ 'I must ask, though, that the fade-to-black scene before they have sex isn't terribly placed, right? My editor assured me it was alright, but I'm still not sure about it.' 

He waves her off, 'it was fine. If anything, your audience would have found it frustrating.' Jonathan looks back and forth, seemingly lost in the conversation. 'Thank you for the kind words, Damian. I see that time has indeed mellowed your bite.' He rolls his eyes, 'time has only made me want more,' she coughs, a light pink dusting pale cheeks. 'Are you taking care of yourself?' He frowns, 'you look paler than the last time I saw you.' She brushes his hand away from her face, turning away, 'you know that I'm paler than most.'

'Doesn't mean that you can use that to justify your lack of outside interaction, Rachel,' he responds dryly. She rolls her eyes fondly, fingers curling around his own. A warning.  _Whatever game you're playing, don't drag me in._ He grins flirtatiously,  _I would never._

Jonathan coughs lightly, breaking their little competition. 'I'm gonna go get some food, you guys want anything?' Damian shakes his head, 'thank you, Beloved, but I'll be fine.' He takes the time to run his hand through impossibly silky hair, watching as Jonathan's pupils expand slightly. His hand curls around the base of the other boy's neck, toying with the ends of his hair, he leans closer, a murmuring into his boyfriend's ear, 'I heard that the curry is a must-try.' 

He gives a cheeky little bite to the earlobe before stepping back. Jonathan's cheeks have turned red, and his eyes are now more black than blue. A thrill shoots up his spine. 'Beloved?' He asks, 'are you not hungry?' 

Jonathan startles, stammering a reply as he flees. 

Finally, once Jonathan was out of sight, Damian laughs. 

'You're terrible,' Rachel chides, smacking him over the head. He smirks, 'I can't help it. I've been waiting for him to catch up with me for  _three_ years, Roth. At least commend me for not breaking sooner.' She throws him a dirty look, shaking her head in disappointment. 'For my next book, I'm gonna write about a terrible boyfriend that teases his lover into breaking all resolve until they finally bang. Then I'll make  _you_ read it before it's published.' 

His smirk grows wider, a dangerous glint entering his eyes, 'oh? Do make it as flustering as possible. I would like for my Beloved to grow red in the face when he's done with the book.' 

She glares at him, dark eyes irritated. 'You're a terrible friend.' He laughs, 'so I've heard. Yet, it was I who set you and Garth up.' 

Rachel's cheeks bloom red, 'you had Kori's help.' He sips his water, 'I did most of the work.'

'You spent a gargantuan amount of money to make sure we became a couple.'

'Exactly. It wasn't easy to explain to Father about my expenditures.' 

'You didn't have to.'

'Oh, but I wanted to.'

'You're terrible.'

'I know, Roth, you've been saying that an awful lot.'

'Terrible.' 

 

 

* * *

 

 

He watches, green colouring his vision, as Damian and Rachel's interactions turn more and more intimate. He knows that Damian would never cheat on him, but the fact remains that Damian's highly attractive and knows how to flirt his way to his goals. How a prickly kid turned into a God of flirting was beyond Jon, but the more he watched, the more uncomfortable he got. 

The moment he left the pair, they got even closer. Whatever they were talking about escalated to the point that Damian was laughing at every other word. Damian never laughed or smiled that much, even when Jon was around. 

The rational part of mind nagged that they were merely close friends, but he still felt like they were a better match.  _Maybe it's because they did date, once._ He bitterly reminds himself, staring at his bowl of curry. 

His cheeks flush at the thought of how  _close_ Damian had got, and how aroused he felt when Damian bit his ear. Damian's teasing knew no bounds, often driving Jon mad with lust in the past three years. Yet, Damian's never touched him. 

He was certain that Damian would make a move tonight, but Damian remained the same. Slightly disappointed, Jon makes his way back. 

Damian was alone, typing on his phone. 

'Dami? Where's Rachel?' He tries to keep the envy out of his voice. If Damian had noticed, he didn't show it. 'Hm? She's gone to find her boyfriend, love.' 

'Boyfriend?' She had a boyfriend?

'Were you not aware? She and Garth are dating.'

He felt guilty instantly, 'really?' 

Damian nods, tucking his phone into his pocket, hands lingering enticingly near his crotch. Jon feels warm all over, 'I didn't know that.' His boyfriend sighs, plucking a piece of bread out of Jon's plate and dipping it in curry. 'They've been going out for  _years_ now, Jonathan.' He places the bread on Jon's lips, and Jon complies immediately. Damian's thumb stays there for a second longer, swiping at his lips for excess gravy before he brings it up to his own lips and licks it clean. 

Gulping loudly, Jon focuses on getting Damian to eat as well. 'It really is great!' He blurts, dunking a piece of bread into the bowl. Damian's slender fingers curl around his wrist, and Jon watches, entranced, as Damian's tongue peeks out to lick at Jon's skin before he takes the piece of bread into his mouth. His lover chews quietly, humming in satisfaction. The grip on his wrist tightens. Damian's tongue peeks out again, licking long stripes along his fingers, cleaning them of gravy. 

'Pennyworth has outdone himself yet again,' Damian comments, dropping Jon's wrist. 

'Damian! Come take a photo with us!' Stephanie yells. Damian nods, 'I'll take my leave,  _for now.'_

All Jon can focus on is how hard his breathing is and how fast his heartbeat is. His knees are weak, and his cheeks must be an impossible shade of red.

 

* * *

 

 

'I saw that,' Brown warns him when he takes his place beside Thomas. 'I beg your pardon?' He raises an eyebrow. 

Cain has an amused smile on her face as Drake rolls his eyes, 'I pity Jon.' Drake sighs, placing the tripod on the ground. Thomas nods, 'you never give the poor boy a break, do you?' 

Gordon snorts, 'Damian? Giving people a break?  _Never.'_ Todd, who was standing next to her, chimes in, 'must be hard for poor Jon.' Grayson laughs, teasingly, 'don't wreck him too hard, Little D.' 

Kane places her drink on a server's tray, green eyes dancing in mirth, 'you Waynes and your little games.' She shakes her head, smacking Todd's hands from grabbing a glass of scotch.

Father sighs, 'take good care of him, Damian.'

'How long more will you wait?' Cain asks. 

He smiles, sharp green eyes tracking his Beloved. 

'I've been waiting for three years, what's one more day?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Damian and Rachel didn't date. Jon just assumed they were exes.

**Author's Note:**

> First: I'm a shit porn writer. I can't write porn for my life. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Second: There are plot holes all over the place. I might make this a series of one-shots, I don't know? 
> 
> Third: heeeeeey, that ending was rather satisfying. The content? No. It wasn't. I'm sorry for the shit I churn out for you guys.


End file.
